Avatar: The Last Foodie
by Sadarus
Summary: Spoiler Alert: Aang overcame Azula. He stopped Ozai. Korra crushed the equalists and defeated Amon, she brought balance to the world and destroyed Vaatu, she put an end to the nefarious Zaheer, and saved the United Republic from Kuvira's regime. But do Aang and Korra together have what it takes to face down the greatest chef in the world? Everything hangs in the balance.


Her hair was like dry seaweed, coarse and crispy. Her eyes melted into her brow and her chin was pointy as a crone's fingertip.

Roberta licked her lips with an anticipation rarely seen in men, and more associable with a starved predator. She licked her fingers across the nipped edge of the coin, her fingernails scraping away the rust.

"You've come to me with a heavy heart, I see." Her smile was a twisted sight to behold. "And even heavier pockets."

"And if you spent half as much time doing as you did talking they'd be heavier still," Cage responded with lack of courtesy, his voice cold enough to leave frostbite on his lips.

Roberta's brow crinkled into a sea of wrinkles.

"But what you want is something no one else can give. If you were smart, you would already be paying me double."

Cage snorted almost instinctively. "Hah! I see that death was right to wait on you. I bet the idea of your passing still scares the shit out of him."

"As if I'm such poor company."

"Well, I wouldn't use the word pleasant to describe it."

Roberta flipped her coin into the air with the base of her thumb, catching it mid-spin with just the tip of her pinkie. The coin continued to spin for a little while, until dipping to the side and rolling onto the table.

"Talk," she said.

"You already know what I want."

"Yes. That avatar's defeat. Why?"

"I didn't realize I was attending group therapy today."

"It's hardly a group with just the two of us, hmm?"

"The two of us?"

Roberta's eyes glinted like a lake kissed by moonlight. Her chair rattled softly as she squeezed her chin, her shadow yawning crookedly along the wall.

Cage shifted uncomfortably, turning his gaze away from Roberta's gleeful grin.

Roberta lifted a hand in the air. "Double."

"…You really are a steaming sack of horse shit."

Roberta caught the bag of gold, and lowered her hand.

"What you want is not mine to give."

Cage's face ripened into a vine tomato. "You said…"

"I said I was the only one who could give you what you want, yes. And I am, indeed, the only one who knows that what you want done is possible. But the one who I will direct you to, the individual with this dark power, is not to be taken lightly. Are you truly ready to sacrifice your soul to sate you desire for revenge?"

"I am."

Roberta's cracked lips were like fissures in the earth, her smile widened their girth and could swallow a man whole.

"Then listen very carefully and do exactly as I instruct. You will outperform her. That's a promise."

…

"Korra, what are you doing? Get them!"

Korra outstretched her arm and flattened her hand. Curling her thumb back, she motioned towards the wild automobile, a slab of concrete untangling from the pavement. The stone whipped forward like the head of a snake, slicing through a tire with deadly precision. The vehicle skid quickly to a halt, melted rubber steaming off the wheels as they wailed along the road.

"The breaks! The breaks!" Korra yelled.

"I'm on it."

Mako steadied the cruiser and gently brought it to a stop. Korra hopped out first, and Mako followed suit.

"Alright," Mako called out, "Hands where I can see them. I have the avatar with me tonight so for your sake, I don't recommend any funny business."

Mako nodded in Korra's direction.

"That's right," Korra coughed, "It's me. The avatar. What he said."

A pillar of steam billowed out from the suspect's hood. The door swung open and a young man began wobbling slowly out of his seat.

"I'm coming! I'm coming! No bending, please, no bending!"

Mako and Korra exchanged a look of bewilderment. They couldn't quite place the accent.

As the smoke began to clear, the young man's features solidified into view. His chin was an anvil, and his hair greasy as an engine. His shoulders were built like the back of an ox, and a small moustache frowned over his lips. But despite his youthful appearance, he walked out with no sense of balance, his every step wavy and uncertain. He steadied himself against a hooked cane, peering through the misty air with one hand held flat over his brow.

"A parallel universe version of Gordon Ramsay young, crippled, and with a moustache!?" Korra and Mako exclaimed simultaneously.

"Yes," he smiled, dramatically turning to face the hidden camera, "It's me. And I'm here to personally invite you, to season 42 of Hell's Kitchen."

 **TO BE CONTINUED.**


End file.
